A Crash Course In Apologies
by Sylphie3000
Summary: Steven's been gone for eight months, and there's someone he needs to explain himself to.


By Arceus, he missed Hoenn.

The islands, the moody storms, the smell of the tropical sea that's so different from Johto's grey, industrial spray. Johto was _fascinating_ , by all means - the Ice Path in particular, but it's not Steven's home. He went to learn, to study, and with three separate college-ruled notebooks filled cover to cover with smudged ink and diagrams, pages warped with highlighters and stuffed with pamphlets, he's more than ready to return with his findings and add his new specimens to his collection.

There's just one problem - he went to Johto on an impulse. Something about being _alive_ in the region he almost lost made him need to go, and he left overnight with only a note left in his home and an email to his father as warning. He's been gone for _eight months._

He'd given May his house key as a gift of trust - much like with many of his other gifts, he can't say _why_ he'd done it, just that it had seemed right at the time. He hopes that she had gone to visit, despite the guilt that weighs in his stomach at the thought, and that she'd kept the Beldum.

May Maple is going _kill him_ when she sees him.

He doesn't know whether or not to be eager despite that fact.

His plane lands in Lilycove, tourist destination that it is, letting the lead in his chest sink below the asphalt. As much as he wants to enjoy those first breaths of familiar Hoenn air they're shaky. Despite himself, he wants to get on the return flight to Johto. At least there, he wouldn't have to crunch Devon Corps' numbers.

"It's about time you showed up," Wallace says outside the airport, a hand on his hips and eyes alight. "It was getting pretty boring without you, Stone."

Steven flashes him a small smile. "And here I thought I wasn't much for company. Something about the mysteries of accounting being lost on you, if I remember right."

"I don't recall _ever_ saying such a thing! The wonders of numbers are all my soul _craves_ , Steven. Equations are what I live for!" his friend cries, throwing one dramatic arm over his eyes even as his face breaks into a cheek-splitting grin.

Steven laughs for the first time in a long while. The knot in his stomach loosens the smallest bit, and he breaths a little easier. "Well, I'll have to remember that next time we go to dinner. There'll be plenty to go around, what with all the work I have to catch up on."

"Not our fault you flew yourself halfway across the globe on nothing but a night's notice." Wallace shrugs, smile fading to a more serious expression. "What did you expect?"

"Exactly what I'm getting. Look, I know it wasn't the smartest thing to do-"

"Oh, you can say that again-"

"But we almost _died!_ Wallace, we almost - _I_ almost died. That meteor, Deoxys and Rayquaza, they could have killed everyone. Destroyed the world! I could have died without seeing," he throws his arm back towards the airport, to the plane taking off to Arceus-knows-where, "anywhere else!"

Wallace crosses his arms, fingers tapping an irritated rhythm on his bangles. "You've been to other places. Just a couple years ago, there was that conference in Unova, and before that you went to Indigo Plateau -"

"That's just it, though. _Business_. That's not _seeing_ the country. If I have specimens from another country, they're either gifts or from the web. I wanted to see more than a glimpse from a skyscraper."

There's a long silence, punctuated only with the bustle of people around them and the irritated tapping of Wallace's fingers on his arms. Under the weight of his friend's glare, Steven lowers his own to find a shiny, if otherwise nondescript, rock on the asphalt. Iron pyrite inclusions, perhaps.

"I just wanted to _live_ for a minute," he finally says, hoping the remorse in his chest comes through in his tone. "I'm sorry."

A weight settles on his shoulder, followed by a low chuckle.

"You're an idiot, Steven Stone. A human calculator and a geology buff the likes of which the world has never seen, yes, but you, my friend, are a _dunce_."

Steven squeezes his eyes shut, wishing he'd never left the Ruins of Alph. As much as he expected this, and as much as he knows he deserves it, by Mew's teeth it still _stings_.

"And not because I don't forgive you -" Steven's eyes snap up to Wallace's face and he's wearing that smarmy smirk of his, one eyebrow cocked and his other hand resting on his hip. "Oh no, I did a long time ago - but because you forgot one crucial detail."

Everything in Steven's body freezes; he doesn't move, doesn't breathe, doesn't even _think_.

The smirk on his best friend's face widens almost maliciously and Steven's gut twists with anxiety.

"May doesn't know you're home yet."

* * *

"I did you a favor, you know," Wallace chirps as the two walk through Ever Grande an hour later. There's a spring in his friend's step so big it's suspicious, and Steven can't seem to shake the sense of impending doom that's settled over him since Lilycove.

"And what would that be?"

"Thought it would be obvious. Johto really didn't test your observational skills, did it?"

Steven sighs once, then again at Wallace's laughter.

"Don't be so glum, Stone!" he says, elbowing Steven in the ribs. "It's more fun this way."

"I'm sure you'll all have an absolute riot at my funeral."

"Drama always _was_ your specialty. She'll be happy to see you, stop worrying."

"She'd probably be happier if _you told her I was coming_ , Wallace." Steven rolls his eyes at his friends' wicked cackling and sends a prayer to whatever Legendary's looking his way - with his luck, probably none, but he has to try - that this isn't going to end in complete catastrophe.

They continue walking at a decent clip, but even though it's only a couple blocks it feels like forever. What's she going to do when she sees him? Hug him? Cry? Scream? She's entitled to it, but if May is one thing it's _unpredictable_. When he'd gone to Johto he'd hoped to learn more about her, where she came from and how she operates, but instead of going one step forwards he'd gone two backwards; there's a part of her Hoenn carved, and the strange mix of the two cultures makes everything she does come out of left field.

In a world of numbers and patterns, where the days blend in without end, her unpredictability is _addicting_. Thing is, he doesn't even know if she's still going to want him around after his disappearing act.

He wipes his sweaty palms on his pants and hopes she will. Hopes for more than that, really, but by Arceus, if she'll take him _at all_ he'll be happy. For the rest of his days, he'll be happy.

 _Please, don't let me have ruined everything_ , he thinks. _Let me fix this_.

"Steven?"

He snaps out of his trance, stare whipping up from the sidewalk to look at Wallace, who's almost half a block behind him, one foot on the doorstep of a small white house, expression one of amused exasperation.

"You have an issue with the sidewalk?"

Steven shakes his head and speed-walks back to his friend, fighting the anxiety rising in his gut. Once Wallace rings that doorbell, there's no going back, no way _out_.

His fight or flight instinct kicks into high gear and he almost books it back down the road, back to Johto, anywhere else but here, but then, before Wallace can knock, before he can even _move_ -

The door slams open. There's a shout, then another, Wallace is a blur of turquoise and white and Steven hits the ground. _Hard._

On top of him is either a dumbbell the size of Kanto, or a Beldum. Two-hundred-odd pounds of excited, sentient metal, sitting on his chest like a Lillipup and making a high pitched ringing. Granted, the Pokemon is taking just enough of it's weight off of him to keep his ribs from breaking as he squirms beneath it, but it's going to leave a nasty bruise come morning.

"Ferrous!"

The Beldum immediately changes tune, and even though it can't do much in the way of expressing emotion the low, apologetic note it hums out vibrates through his chest.

"What," says a disgruntled-sounding May, "have I told you about jumping people at the door? You're not a guard dog - _no_ , I don't care who it is! You're going to _hurt_ someone."

"I'm pretty sure your little _pal_ just ruined my best suit," Wallace mutters from the lawn. "I'm never going to get these grass stains out."

The Beldum hovers off of Steven's chest, still humming the apology as it floats to it's trainer. Steven props up on an elbow, prodding his ribs with his other hand to make sure there isn't any swelling while Wallace rights himself and May quietly scolds the Beldum he gave her. It's _normal_ , for a second, and he almost forgets he was gone before the reality of the situation hits him like a sack of bricks. He continues poking his chest long after May has fallen silent, and he can't move through her glare.

When all is said and done, and Wallace has helped him up, nobody says anything. The Beldum hovers near May's leg, Wallace picks at his suit and mutters under his breath, and Steven tries _very_ hard to dissolve into air. In Johto, he imagined a hundred different ways this could go, how he could fix it - apologies, gifts, _anything_ , but now that he's here...

There's just nothing _to_ say.

Wallace - beautiful friend that he is - is the one to break the silence.

"I feel like the front lawn isn't the place for a battle of wills," he says, flicking a ruffled turquoise lock out of his face. "Steven's already publicly lost once. I don't think his pride could handle another round."

May's gaze doesn't break from Steven's face; it's hard and appraising, the same unrelenting grey of Johto's sea. "Not until I get an explanation."

"You should probably do that inside. I would stay, but I am a _terrible_ third wheel. That, and I think I may have to replace my pants - my ass is bright green."

When she looks away to give Wallace a once-over and have a laugh at his expense, he takes a few deep breaths. His organs feel like they're in a vacuum, collapsing under the pressure of his own emotion. He runs a hand through his hair, wincing at a bruise forming on the back of his head. He's lucky, he supposes, that May hasn't evolved the Beldum yet. If it had been a Metang, or even worse, a _Metagross_ , he'd be a couple ribs short at least.

"You coming in? Or are you planning on standing there until you take root?" May snaps, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"I - oh, well - _yeah_ ," Steven manages, and follows her inside. Wallace shouts a farewell and he gives his friend a short wave, but keeps his eyes on the light brown hardwood as she closes the door behind him and leads him into the living room.

It's a simple space, with a dark brown overstuffed loveseat and two chairs to match, a small tv tucked into the corner, and a couple bookshelves lining the walls between windows. Knick-knacks and picture frames fill the spaces not occupied by well-worn novels. Nothing too expensive, but not entirely thrift-store chic like she was when they first met. And this small, brightly lit, comfortable room feels more like May than her younger, shabbier self ever did.

"Make yourself comfortable, I guess," she says, gesturing to the seats.

Steven perches on the edge of the loveseat, hands folded and back ramrod straight. The couch is a tad too short for him, and his knees stick up just enough to make him feel like a teenager, all limbs and no grace. It doesn't help that the Beldum settles next to him, excited and humming. May nods, satisfied, and turns towards the kitchen.

"Water or tea?"

"Water's fine, thanks."

"Yeah."

The room feels different without May filling the empty spaces. When he left, she was still living with her parents in Petalburg, and nothing ever really felt her own. This space is teaching him more about her than their Championship battle, or her victory against the legendary pokemon did. A pokemon battle can teach him about will, courage, teamwork, the like. An educating experience, to be sure, but he never knew that she's fond of sky blue, or that her favorite genre is, by the sheer number of books, sci-fi. Small things, yes, but damn if it doesn't make him -

"Sorry, filter's out. I hope tap is fine," May says as she turns the corner from the kitchen proper. "Martin got a bit overexcited last week and flooded half the kitchen. I had to get the pipes fixed."

Her Swampert, Martin, chirps from somewhere upstairs, a distinct throaty sound he remembers well.

May glances upstairs, an exasperated grin curving her lips for the first time since he arrived. "He's not supposed to be upstairs."

Steven takes the glass she offers, returning her grin with an awkward one of his own. She holds the smile for a second and if he didn't know May's nature as he does he would've thought everything is fine, but she sobers as she sits, legs crossed and eyes turning hard. The knot in his stomach tightens under her stare, threatening nausea.

There's a long silence, punctuated by the occasional tap of a fingernail on May's untouched cup and Steven's small sips.

The silence wears thin as May waits for answer Steven doesn't know how to give.

Thinner as Steven's glass slowly empties, as the Beldum gets bored with the inattention and bobs away with a heavy hum.

Steven flinches when May speaks - _I should have spoken first_ , he thinks. Guilt blossoms in his chest and he stares at the small film of water in the bottom of his cup.

"I'm feeling there's something you need to get off your chest," she huffs. "I suggest you start. _Now_."

Steven sighs, sets his glass on an end table and cards a shaking hand through his hair. One of the few perks of growing up as a businessman is learning to internalize everything - casual, calming gestures that put both yourself and an upset opposite party at ease are practiced, facial features are schooled, and voices remain neutral. Good to utilize, when one's head is clear and negotiations are on the table.

Bad, when one is actually trying to connect with someone. Someone that's not as easy as Wallace, who will always be there. Someone who might not forgive him, no matter what he says or how he says it.

"I'm not sure what to say." His voice is calm, steady despite the anxiety rising into his throat. "I don't know how to make this better."

"You could _start_ with an apology."

He steals a glance at her to find those beautiful grey eyes of hers still stormy with anger and confusion, and locked on him. The humor that was almost in her words didn't make it onto her face.

"Right. I'm sorry, then. I wish that I had gone about it better, and I'm sorry that I hurt you." It's awkward and harder than it should be to say, but her eyes soften the smallest bit.

May nods. "That's a start. Now," she says, leaning forwards, elbows on her knees and hands clasped between them. "What the _fuck_?"

He almost laughs at her tone, but something says that if he does she'll deck him.

"I…" He takes a deep breath, hunches inwards for a second, pinches the bridge of his nose. "I _had_ to."

"Had to what?" she snaps. Her voice is hot, and she's no longer Johto's frigid spray but a hurricane brewing in Hoenn's waters. That softness that was in her eyes a moment ago has been blown away in her storm, been crushed to dust in her sudden anger. _This_ is the trainer that fought Groudon tooth and nail, that punched Maxie in the face, that won the Championship of a region she wasn't native to. "What, in the name of the Burned _fucking_ Tower, did you _have_ to do?"

"Leave!" It explodes out of him in a fire to equal hers. "I had to go! I almost -"

The room is a dead kind of silent when he cuts himself off. Tension damn near sparks off the both of them - he's surprised that the arm of her chair doesn't tear from how hard she's gripping it.

"I almost _died_ ," he says, and it's almost a whisper. All the fire leaves him as quickly as it came, leaving him exhausted, defeated. "Me, you, _everyone_. We all almost… _died_."

May stares, mouth agape, startled at his outburst - he doesn't think she's ever seen him this way, angry and desperate and lost. He can tell she doesn't know what to do with it.

"You mean Rayquaza? That debacle?"

"Yes. _That_ debacle," he sighs.

She finally, _finally_ , looks away. He watches her eyes flit over the room: the ceiling, the walls, the pictures on her bookshelves, anywhere but him.

"I didn't want the world to become a giant ball of fire before I'd seen it," Steven whispers, dropping his own stare to his hands. Rough, after so many months of digging and sifting, but strong and long-fingered. Like they were meant to play an instrument, at one point, but Steven's path in life had built callouses in all the wrong spots.

"It was a spur of the moment decision, I know, and not a smart one, or very well thought out, but there are some things you just _have_ to do, you know?"

"I didn't know it affected you that much," she says, voice quiet and free of heat. "I never really considered it. I mean, you're - well, _you_. You bounced back so easily after the Elemental Incident, I just thought…"

He chuckles then, shakes his head and twirls his thumbs. "Me, too. Instead, it took about two hours before I had a panic attack, scribbled out a note, threw a Beldum on the counter and sprinted out the door on the phone scheduling the closest flight to Johto. I didn't send Devon Corps a notice until I was at the airport, and Wallace didn't find out until I was already there. Those first couple days weren't very fun. I forgot to pack anything in my rush to get out the door."

"That bad, huh? I know how it is. After Groudon, I didn't get out of bed for a week. Couldn't stop shaking, nightmares every day - my parents were _pissed_. It made dealing with Rayquaza easier, though. What's one more Legendary pokemon, right?"

"You," he says with a small, hopeful grin, "are one of only two people I've ever met that can say that."

"Guess life-risking escapades aren't for everyone." She shrugs, returning his fading smile with a half-hearted one of her own.

"A near miss with a meteorite is apparently where I draw the line, if it makes you feel better."

She laughs, that kind of surprised bubbly sound that warms his bones to hear. It's been so rare since May fought Groudon. "It does. Makes my reactions seem a bit tamer in comparison."

"I'm sorry," he says again, after the mirth has faded a bit from them both. "I should have told you, or given more notice, or something -"

"A phone call _would_ have been nice."

He frowns, twists the rings on his fingers. "I didn't know what to say, to be honest. I didn't even know if you'd want to talk to me at all after you found out I was gone."

"Of _course_ I wanted to talk to you!" she says, affronted. "I was worried sick, Steven! I love Ferrous, but he's not your replacement. We - _I_ \- missed you."

It's his turn now to gape at her, eyebrows somewhere near his hairline and jaw sitting on the floor. He half expects his old etiquette instructor to snap his mouth shut with her ruler.

May isn't Wallace - Wallace is _easy_. When he says he missed Steven, it was friendly - if a tad embittered - and relaxed Steven. Let him know he was wanted, that his absence was noticed and unpleasant. May, on the other hand, is the one person that can knock eloquent and prepared Steven Stone, heir of Devon Corps., completely speechless. Because when she says she missed him, that she was worried -

He swears he hears what he _feels,_ and by Arceus above, his heart misses a beat.

"Just…" she heaves, turning away from his stare even as her cheeks turn as red as her old tank top, "don't do that to me again. We need you here, Champion or not."

"I promise."

She nods and he flashes a half-grin. The daylight outside has faded to brilliant, seaside orange. She follows his eyes and stands when she sees the sky.

"Come on. It's been awhile since you've seen a proper Hoenn sunset."

He follows her out the door and onto her doorstep. Behind them, Ferrous the Beldum hums happily, and nudges its way in between their legs. They can see the ocean horizon from her front door, and he can _breathe_.

In silence, shoulders pressed together, alone in all the world ignoring them, they watch the sun sink behind Hoenn's ocean.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," May murmurs, placing her head on his shoulder.

"It's okay." His voice is just as soft as hers despite the heat in his stomach. He could fly, right now, could reach the stars appearing in the sky, but instead he just leans his cheek on her hair, takes in the texture and the faint smell of mago berries as an arm loops around her shoulders. "I would have snapped at me too. I was being..."

"An ass?"

He snorts, smiling into her hair. "That's one way to put it,," he says.

The sun's almost sunk below the horizon when she speaks again, hesitant and careful.

"You promise that you won't leave like that again?"

He pulls away to look at her face, at the caution and almost childish hurt written in the furrow of her brow and the purse of her lips. Once bitten, twice shy it seems.

"Here." He holds up a hand to her, pinky finger extended from a fist. "Pinky swear."

The grin that splits her face is blinding and relieved, full of something he doesn't dare to name. She grips his pinky with hers and moves their hands up and down handshake style. "Pinky swear."

"And so mote it be," he rumbles, voice down as low as it can go, head bowed as if in prayer, ruining the effect on purpose with a shit-eating grin.

She laughs then, and pulls him back to her side, tangling their hands together in the process. Her head returns to its previous perch on his shoulder, and in content quiet, with only the sound of the ocean and the curious ringing of Ferrous as it examines something in the yard, they stare at the sky and the moon, reveling in the cool sea breeze.

She squeezes his hand almost hard enough to hurt and heaves a content, heavy sigh.

"I'm glad you came home, Steven."

Something warm and bright and filling him like helium replaces that knot in his stomach. He clutches May's hand, runs a thumb over her knuckles and watches her face turn splotchy in the yellow of the porch light. He missed her, by Arceus and Mew and every Legendary of every pantheon, he had _missed_ her.

"Me, too."


End file.
